Harry, apparently, woke up every morning (early in the morning) at the same time. From a nitemare, though he never told her that. He rarely told the Metamorphmagus anything serious, which was disconcerting because the teenaged Harry had spoken at least a little more openly when she, Remus, and Sirius hung out at Grimmauld. Nevertheless, she knew it was a nitemare. And so the woman with the wonky sleep schedule anyway had taken to waking up with him. And sitting vigil rather than going back to sleep.
Tonks often wondered whether she would have been like this were there not a war happening back home. The conclusion she kept coming back to was yes. She had been a niteowl back in school, which probably only exacerbated the relationship with trouble and mischief that she had already had. So the fact that she slept oddly was accepted and she moved on.
This particular morning, she wanted to watch the sunrise. Perhaps for inspiration on colours, perhaps just to watch. Probably a bit of both. Either way she had scoped out a place not too far off from the apartments. It was a simple bench in the middle of this tiny little garden, the city's way of beautifying the area. Very Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
She was sitting on top of the bench, perched precariously like some green-topped bird. The movement of someone getting ready to pass by returned her attention from her thoughts and fingers automatically twitched for her wand. Paranoid habits died hard. Soon as she realised who it was, though, the young woman smiled and called out. "Join me?"